“What time is it?”
“One o’clock.”
“Oh, then he can’t be long, for he is generally at home by half-past twelve, at the latest, on Saturdays.”
“Are you all ready for us, Rock?” asked Eleanor. “I am just wild to see what you have been doing.”
Rock smiled. “You will see very soon.”
“Are we going to eat luncheon out of doors?”
“Not exactly.”
“Oh dear! I wish Jerry would come.” Eleanor could not curb her impatience.
“There he is now,” cried Rock. “Come, girls.” And the three rushed down-stairs and into the garden to meet Jerry, who was standing with John McClure waiting for them.
“You want to see what we have been doing, don’t you, Miss Eleanor?” said John, smiling at Eleanor’s eagerness. “Well, come along.” And he led the way down to the foot of the garden where stood a small brick building that was used in winter for the storage of flower-pots, bulbs and such like things.